Down The River
by AnEdwardToRemember
Summary: Based on 'The African Queen' 1951


**Title: Down the River**

**Based on **_**The African Queen**_

The Germans had come after all. Mr. Cullen had alerted my dear brother and me that they might, warning us to perhaps flee to Limbasi when they declared war on the English. But, we couldn't leave our small flock. Brother had come to teach the heathen and had even learned to love them. But now he lay dead on his bed. When they had come they took his small flock and one of those vile men had hit my brother. It broke his heart. I wanted revenge on them, but had no idea of what to do to exact it.

I could hear the thump-thump-thump of the engine of Mr. Cullen's mail boat, the African Queen, coming around the bend. I knew he would put in here, he always did. He was a fine looking older man, if a bit dirty and rough around the edges. Still, inviting him to tea was the Christian thing to do whenever he came to deliver our mail and whatever supplies we had ordered. Perhaps I could convince him to do me a turn and bury Brother, and maybe he would even take me from this place that God forgot.

My needlework was in hand as I heard his footsteps trod up the path from the river. The scent of smoke permeated the air, a remnant of the huts the Germans had burned to enslave our good people. At least they hadn't burned the house I sat in currently as I fought back my tears and sewed a few more stitches.

The creak of his footsteps on the porch alerted me that he was looking in the house. I supposed sitting here and not speaking was impolite. "Good evening, Mr. Cullen," I said, alerting him to my presence.

"Well, good evening Miss," he responded. "I see the Germans came back like I said they would. I'm pleased to see you safe and well. How fares your brother, the reverend?" he asked, slipping off his cap as he entered the small bungalow my brother and I had shared for the last ten years.

I picked up my needlework again, concentrating on the design to keep my tears from falling. I am English. I do not cry. "He's dead, Mr. Cullen," I answered after I got my emotions in check.

"Well, now, that's just a shame!" he cried. "Why would they go and shoot a good reverend who never done nobody any harm?"

"They didn't shoot him, Mr. Cullen," I stated, "but they are just as answerable to God for his life as if they did."

He looked around the outside of the house. "I'm sorry to bother you, Miss, but owing to the climate and all, I was wondering where he was? We'll need to get him buried, see, and then should probably get you out of here as well."

I knew he spoke the truth. I couldn't remain. There was no more flock to teach, and no reverend to lead them. My brother didn't truly love Africa, but he had failed his finals, so couldn't be assigned a proper station in England. I was plain, with no marriage prospects, and so had come with him. Now I would leave alone. I could see Mr. Cullen fidgeting next to me, so I put down my sewing and addressed him. "Very well, Mr. Cullen. There is a shovel out behind the house, if you would please be so kind. I'll go and pack my things."

I finished selecting what I would need and looked out the window to see Mr. Cullen fashioning a cross out of some wood and wire. I supposed it was the best that could be done. Still, I couldn't leave without saying a prayer over his grave, so grabbed Brother's prayerbook and read his sermon for the deceased. As I read I noticed that Mr. Cullen kept looking to the jungle, glancing at his pocket watch and then looking to the river. He seemed to be in a hurry. I was giving one last prayer in my mind when he interrupted me. "I'm sorry to rush you, Miss, but we's need to be going before the Germans come back. They'd love to get their hands on the Queen, owing as she's so solid built, and I'd really rather that not happen."

I sighed. He was right. It was time to go. "You're quite right, Mr. Cullen," I said and reached down for my valise. He gallantly took it from me and walked with me down to the dock and assisted me as I climbed into the boat.

Watching him take off from shore was much like watching a dance. He stoked the fire under the boiler, jumped to the front to throw off the ropes, ran back to the tiller to set a direction, then ran back to the front to push off with a long pole, before returning to the boiler to feed in more fuel. He was sweaty and filthy, and his light-weight shirt clung to the muscles of his back and arms as he moved. I pulled my jacket closer about me after straightening my skirt and dabbing at the perspiration on my brow with my handkerchief.

We were a little distance from shore when he ungraciously plopped down next to me, pushing on me a little and grabbing the tiller. "Beggin' your pardon, Miss," he said as he steered the boat and I watched my home for the last ten years fall away behind me.

"Where are we going, Mr. Cullen?" I asked, wondering where it was safe. "Will we go to Limbasi?'

"Well, now Miss, that wouldn't be a good idea," he replied, wiping the sweat from around his neck before tying the bandanna around it. "The Germans have control of the rail lines so we can't go upriver. I figure our boys might fight their way down to regain control. Or they may come up to the lake at the end of the river, but that's not a great idea either."

"And why is that, Mr. Cullen?" I asked, wondering why he hadn't just simply explained himself. He handed me a map and began pointing down the river until he reached a lake.

"Well, Miss, down in the lake there is the Louisa, a German war boat, and she's protecting this river from being invaded. The Germans have a fort just down the river a piece at Shona." He pointed out Shona to me, not far from where we were currently. No wonder they had been able to raid our small village so easily.

I looked over the map for a spell as Mr. Cullen drove the boat. I could see that our options were severely limited and occasionally lifted my eyes to watch him as he maneuvered the boat into a small copse of trees and dropped the anchor. It appeared that he intended to be here for a while, and that most certainly would not do. "Then wherever shall we go, Mr. Cullen?" I asked, growing concerned over what his intentions regarding our time were.

"Well, I've food, cigarettes and gin a plenty, Miss. I figured we could hole up on one of these here islands for a few months. All the comforts of home, including running water!" he opined, shocking me greatly.

"We cannot remain here until the war is over, Mr. Cullen!" I explained. "The British will launch an attack. We only need to concern ourselves with which way they will come! I believe we should go down the river."

"Now, Miss, that's just foolishness!" he exclaimed. "Besides the Germans there be rapids and such. No one has ever made it down the Ulanga before!"

"Spangler did it," I retorted. "Surely if he did, we can. I have faith in your boating skills."

"In a dugout canoe with Swahili paddlers! No one's ever done it in a launch before. It's death waiting for us if'n we try!" he exclaimed.

I was most put out. I was not going to be holed up on this small boat for the duration of the war. It was unseemly, not to mention impractical. "Mr. Cullen," I called to him, "whatever is the matter with going down the river? Besides the possibility of running into this Louisa?"

"Now you see, Miss, there's also rapids a plenty. I've no idea if'n the Queen could even make it down past them. We'd likely to be torn apart."

"I see." I stopped and looked about me. I could see boxes of things and cylinders in the boat and so asked him what they were. An idea formed in my mind as he told me they were blasting gelatin and gas cylinders. We could take out the Louisa, surely! That way we could help with the war effort and avenge my dear brother. "Mr. Cullen?" I called again and a look of exasperation came upon his face.

"I'm still right here, Miss. There's not much else place I can go on a thirty foot boat," he said snippily. The audacity of this man! Granted my life depended on him, but he didn't need to behave like one of the heathen.

Still, I was a lady and knew how to properly address him. I also wanted to avenge my dear brother. "Yes, Mr. Cullen. Mr. Cullen, do you believe we could build a torpedo from that gelatin and those cylinders?"

He looked confused. Taking off his cap and scratching his head most rudely he replied, "Why, yes, Miss, I suppose we could. Only, we ain't got nothing to torpedo."

I couldn't restrain my chuckle. "Oh, but yes, we do Mr. Cullen."

His confusion was now deepened as he asked me what I had planned. When I told him he laughed. He actually laughed! "Why that's just silliness, Miss!" he chortled. "Besides that, there's them rapids. We can't get no launch down those rapids."

I suppose I should have understood his fear, but really! He had never tried, and Spangler had accomplished it. Surely if a German could do it, a British sailor could! Even if he only captained a launch. I pointed out to him that he had never tried when he got snippy with me. "Ain't never tried shooting me'self in the head, neither, but that don't mean it ain't foolishness to consider!"

I sat and stared at him. I couldn't believe it. Him, a British sailor, not doing all he could for serving his country? I pointed this out to him and gave me a shrug and a glorious crooked smile that set my stomach aflutter. "I suppose we could try, Miss," he said, but then sat down! I pointed out that there was no time like the present to begin, and he huffed at me before finally pushing off again into the river.

A short while later the boiler began to emit steam from places I was sure it shouldn't. He handed me the tiller, instructing me on how to steer, which side was port and which starboard before rushing to adjust the boiler before something untoward happened. I grasped the tiller as if it was the word of God, guiding me to my destination. I knew we were right to make this journey. God's hands were in all things and he would grant us success since we were in the right.

I watched Mr. Cullen as he fiddled with the engine, all the while explaining to me the importance of it as well as the tiller. Previously I had considered him to be such a common man, but as I watched him closely, for there was nothing else but the river to watch, I could see that in fact he was quite knowledgeable and hard working. Despite his lack of decorum, I could see there was a good man underneath.

When evening began to fall he pulled us to the side of the river and again dropped the anchor. I watched him as he pulled out two cups and then a wooden crate and offered me a drink. I was shocked when I learned it was gin; no good Christian would drink such a vile thing, surely! It was forbidden and outrageous that he would drink it, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. The way his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the drink of the devil was quite appealing and caused a flutter that seemed to occur more and more often to begin in my stomach. I had heard of sin, and now I was witnessing it before me.

From time to time he glanced at me, no doubt noting the way my cheeks flushed as I grew upset. I was thirsty, but he could not tempt me to drink that foul liquid. My brother's sermons on the evils of drink came to my mind and I sat looking around, refusing to succumb to my thirst and thus give in to Satan's grasp. God must have heard my resolve, for it was then that Mr. Cullen offered me a spot of tea. I offered up a quick prayer of thanks as I watched him pull some hot water from the boiler and prepare it for me.

It was possibly the most delicious thing I had ever tasted, despite the rusty flavor. I couldn't believe how parched I was! The liquid had made me hotter, however, not to mention the feel of Mr. Cullen's nearness, and so I removed my hat and placed it beside me, gratefully accepting another cup from him when he offered before he prepared us a small repast of crackers and tinned meat.

When we had finished Mr. Cullen suggested a bath and I surprised myself a little by agreeing to it. He was a perfect gentleman, however, going off the bow to hang from the anchor and allowing me to use the stern so I could utilize the gunwale. I tried to keep my eyes averted as he undressed, but the sight of his lean torso as he took off his shirt set my stomach to fluttering even harder than it had before. Thankfully I couldn't see much, which meant that he couldn't either, so I unbuttoned my dress at my wrists and neck and pulled it off my body. It was a proper dress, but I honestly relished the feeling of the air on my skin. I couldn't quite bring myself to remove my underclothes, however before dropping to the gunwale and hanging my feet into the water.

I peeked around the front of the boat in time to see him lower himself into the water, climbing down the anchor chain. He had not retained his undergarments and I could see the strength of his chiseled body as it disappeared under the water. I lowered myself into the water as well. It was so refreshing, washing away the dirt and sweat of the jungle, but I knew it was improper and so pulled myself back up the boat. Mr. Cullen was still in the water, so I took the opportunity to change my undergarments and put on a lighter dress. I knew I should return to my heavier traveling clothes, but the heat of them was intolerable and I felt Mr. Cullen might not mind.

I heard him rise from the water as I wrung out my wet things and set them to dry. He asked my permission to come back, gallantly checking to be sure I was decent before intruding on my space. I looked at him when he returned and was shocked by his appearance. His face was clean as was his auburn hair. It still waved around as if it was as wild and untamed as the very jungle that surrounded us, but he was a most striking figure all the same. I looked into his deep green eyes as he handed me bedding and helped me to arrange it, explaining that he would be sleeping forward amongst the explosives. We drifted off to sleep with the sounds of the jungle and river around us.

I awoke with a start to feel Mr. Cullen climbing beside me under the awning! I sat up quickly and pulled my blanket about me. "Mr. Cullen! What are you doing here?" I exclaimed. I was outraged–how dare he approach my person like that while I was sleeping! He apologized for waking me before walking forward again and sitting down. It was then that I saw the lightening and heard the thunder. With chagrin, I realized it was raining and that I had sent him out into it. _How very unchristian of me_, I thought, embarrassed by my actions and for accusing him of impropriety. Thankfully he was still willing to come in out of the rain.

He settled himself with his back to me, moving so the rain didn't drip into his face, and I felt pity for the poor man. I watched as he drifted off to sleep, wanting to be sure he would behave himself and also aware that he was somewhat uncomfortable as the rain continued to hit him. He had given me the only true dry spot on the boat. I grabbed a corner of my blanket to cover him from where the rain was spattering and went back to sleep, lulled by the sound of his deep, even breathing.

We awoke and set down the river again. Mr. Cullen allowing me to take the tiller as I had become more proficient; this made me happy. The sun was quite bright today, reflecting off the river like glass and I was grateful for the canopy over my head as I watched Mr. Cullen continue to fiddle with the engine and boiler. With the sleeves pushed up on his arms revealing the strength that lay hidden there, he really was almost as pleasant to look at as the jungle itself.

It was close to midday when I heard a muted roar from ahead. Mr. Cullen turned to look at me, giving me a lop-sided grin, something that I'd noticed he did whenever he was particularly pleased with something. He left the boiler alone and came to sit next to me. In the heat of the day I noticed a certain scent, not unlike dried marigolds, that was coming from around me and asked him about it as he sat nearby. He only shrugged and looked ahead as the roar grew louder. "Mr. Cullen, do you have any idea what that sound could be?" I asked, raising my voice slightly in order to be heard.

"Why yes, Miss, those be the rapids ahead. Remember I told you about those?" He reached for the tiller and offered to take it from me, but I declined, asking rather if I might be able to try. He got a devilish look and a gleam in his bright eyes when he replied. "That might'n be a good idear, Miss. Learn by doing and all." He returned to his tinkering, leaving me be at the tiller, showing his confidence in my newfound abilities even if all the while he kept glancing at me to see how I was faring.

The sound of the water as it rushed down the rocks was terrific and overwhelming. I grabbed hold of the tiller tightly, knowing our very lives depended on my successful navigation through this treacherous pass. My heart began to race as I watched and steered the small launch, almost overwhelmed at the sheer feeling of power in my hands as we flew past the land at such an alarming speed. Never had my body felt such excitement, with perhaps the possible exception of when my dear brother's sermons would lift me nigh unto God himself as we were carried away in the spirit. I could hear my quick breaths, rising and falling in rhythm to the bow of the boat as we passed through, then calming again as the water did as well.

Mr. Cullen came to sit next to me and asked if I had enough. "Enough of what?" I enquired, and gave a chuckle when he asked about the rapids. "Oh, Mr. Cullen, never have I known that a mere physical experience could be so – so – stimulating," I cried to him and watched with joy as he gave me a sideways glance and pulled out a cigarette. "It was so exhilarating. The way the water pushed against the rocks, I've only felt such excitement a few times before. A few times during my dear brother's sermons when the spirit was really upon him." He finally managed to light his cigarette and was looking at me quite oddly. "Tell me, Mr. Cullen, did I do well for a beginner?"

He gave a small shrug. "Not bad at all, Miss, but these waters weren't that rough. These are nothing like what's farther down the river."

"Oh, I can hardly wait," I exclaimed excitedly. "It's no wonder you like boating so much, Mr. Cullen." He gave me another peculiar look and walked back to the engine. I thought I saw his hands shake a bit. Perhaps he was afraid of the rapids?

That evening when we pulled to the bank to rest he pulled out a bottle of gin. I was appalled, as he was drinking it straight from the bottle, and wiping off his sweat with his hand and onto his shirt. His looks were sullen and I couldn't imagine what the trouble was, giving that it had been such a fine day.

"All this fool talk of going down the river and blowing up the Louisa!" I couldn't imagine what he meant and told him so and he replied that we were doing nothing of the sort. How many times could this man surprise me? I told him it was absurd, that of course we were going down the river. "What an absurd idea," he mocked me in a sing-song voice. "Lady, for every one of my absurd idears you've got ten! An' don't you forget it." He finished his small rant with another drink from his bottle.

He actually had the audacity to begin arguing with me over whether or not we would go. First his concern was for the rapids, then for Shona, always seeing the negatives without fully considering how they might be overcome. I presented perfectly reasonable alternatives to his objections and he simply became more and more irate. When I explained how this was to be accomplished, quite reasonably, he became boorish. "Now who's boat is this? Huh? Who do you think you are, taking over my boat? You crazy, psalm-singing, skinny old maid?"

I stared at him as my heart broke. I knew I wasn't a pretty girl. It was why my brother thought to bring me into the jungle, thinking even someone as plain as I could be of use to the Lord somewhere. But I would not let this coarse man, obviously drunk, see me cry. I was English and resolute. He walked to the front of the boat, singing some horrible tune, off key and drunken. Silently, I wished the boat were a bit bigger so I might get away from him, but I was stuck. I watched as he drank himself into oblivion and got an idea.

In the early morning hours, when I surmised Mr. Cullen was fully passed out from the drink, I began gathering all the bottles I could find. Slowly and surely I uncapped them one by one, emptying the contents into the river before throwing the bottle in after it. I could see his stirring and so hurried to gather the last of the bottles before he was fully alert. I hear him moaning for me to stop, but I was resolute–I would not be treated so again, and knew it was the liquor talking. He had been so kind and almost even nice before ingesting it.

He continued to speak to me, but I refused to address him. On top of his boorish behavior was his lie. He had said we would go down the river and blow up the Louisa, allowing me to avenge my brother, but it was all a ruse. He had never intended to keep his word, and that hurt more than his unkind words. I watched him as I emptied the last of the bottles. For a moment I was sure he would try to take them from me forcefully, but then he just leaned over the back of the boat and began to drink from the muddy river. It appeared he might fall in, and part of me hoped he would, thinking it would sober him up faster. However, when his thirst was slaked he simply turned and sat next to me with his head in his hands.

I begin doing what laundry I could in the river, scrubbing out any stains that are possible to remove. Mr. Cullen took my example and went to the bow where he undressed and, actually grabbing soap, slipped into the river to bathe. In his absence I did the same, changing to a clean dress afterwards and washing the one from yesterday, along with my undergarments. With the laundry done I set to repairing any tears I found with my small sewing basket as Mr. Cullen started to clean the boat.

By afternoon is the boat was spotless, I'd finished my sewing and was enjoying reading the good book while he shaved. Still, I had yet to speak to him, but he talked enough to fill the silence. I could tell my quiet was bothering him, but I didn't care. He lied to me and I would not consort with one such as him. Apparently my silence has caused him to hit his breaking point, for he begins to berate me. I am resolved to ignore him and only flinch slightly when he shouts at me.

Finally he says something worth responding to, complaining that it is only natural to take a spot of gin from time to time. "Nature, Mr. Cullen, is what we are put upon this earth to overcome," I informed him, but he just continued to prattle on about how it was unfair that I wouldn't speak to him because he got drunk. "It is not your nasty drunkenness that offends me, Mr. Cullen, but your refusal to go down the river after you promised."

When he pressed on with his argument, I turned my face back to the water, paying him no mind. He had given his word, and so down the river we must go. For the rest of that night and the next morning I simply ignored him; he didn't deserve to be spoken to if he wasn't a man of his word. Around breakfast time, after hours of my silence, he tried to engage me in conversation but I was having none of it. I simply prepared something for myself to eat and continued to wait him out.

Finally, when sun was fully up, he relented. "Fine, Miss, you win," he said disconsolately. I offer him some food but think better of it and pull back. We need to get underway; food can wait.

Mr. Cullen stacked the boxes of blasting gelatin on the port side, as the Germans would be starboard of us. I could see the worry on his face and tried to reassure him but he would not be assuaged. Constantly moving, back and forth between sorting boxes, eating some breakfast and tinkering with the boiler, he stayed busy for much of the morning. When a wicked gleam entered his eyes as he looked back and forth between the boiler and me, I grew anxious. Turning, he appeared to begin to fix something else when I looked up and saw Shona, where the Germans were stationed.

Instructing me to keep low, he reached over and turned off the steam, letting us drift. In the distance I could hear the roar of the rapids on the other side of the town and wonder what he is doing, but am instructed to just let the boat drift, not controlling the tiller. Reports of bullets sound from time to time as they fire across our bow. Mr. Cullen was now frantically repairing the engine. As he worked the sounds of gunfire increased but none make contact with the boat. As we began to pick up speed I watched in shock as one bullet hits the corner of one of the gelatin boxes and whisper frantically to Mr. Cullen. I noted how concerned he has become, and a flicker of fear turned my stomach to lead. If they made contact, we'd have been dead.

Sharp little cracks sounded around us and I realized that a few bullets had hit the boat. Frantically I yanked my valise closer to me, hopefully forming a barrier between me and the bullets. All around us the sounds of air being rent apart by bullets, wood cracking and snapping as it was riddled with holes and the roar of the rapids becoming quite loud created a cacophony of fearful sounds. Mr. Cullen worked frantically, trying and failing to restart the engine so that we would have the steam needed to navigate the rapids. Three times the engine failed before finally catching as we were hurled past the reach of the Germans and into the raging rapids on the other side.

Like ragdolls, we were tossed and thrown about as the power of the water overcame the engine. To my side, I could hear Mr. Cullen begin saying the Lord's Prayer. Ironically, I know it is the first time he has ever prayed, but am glad he has chosen this moment to begin. After what felt like forever in the torrent of water, I saw him gesturing to me and shouting. Through waterlogged clothes and hair, ears still ringing from the gunshots of before, finally I made out that we are out of fuel. Glancing around, I take note of an eddy to the side. Relief flooded my being, making me feel strong and grateful to be alive. Putting all of my weight on the tiller I finally force the boat over and beyond the rocks, settling nicely into the calmer waters.

We worked together nicely, with me pumping out the water from the boat as he went to shore to gather firewood. He was as excited as a schoolboy over our accomplishment and I glowed with pride under his praise of my steering of the boat and happiness when he said he believed we had passed through Ulanga Falls and the worst was now behind us. He came aboard, fearing he had a splinter in his foot but I couldn't find anything. The place we pulled ashore was lovely, full of flowers and the scent hung heavy in the air. I commented on this to Mr. Cullen and he smiled down on me while saying it was quite pretty after all. I couldn't help but blush, knowing he was only looking at me.

He reached his hand out and I took it in mine. I looked up at him again and he came down to the floor of the boat beside me. "Oh, Miss," he whispered as his other hand cupped my cheek and he began to kiss me. The exhilaration of the rapids was nothing compared to the feeling of his lips on mine. I couldn't help but moan into his mouth at the sheer pleasure of his touch.

He let go of my hand and traced his fingers up my arm to the neck of my bodice. I could feel the buttons come undone, falling away one by one as he slowly undressed me, stroking the skin lovingly as he went. My hands went to his shirt, anxious to feel the muscles I had seen play under his skin.

They were hard and rigid, the lines descending down and I allowed my fingers to follow the path of them down to the waistband of his pants. His fingers had made quick work of my buttons and he began to lean me down onto the blanket as he continued to kiss me and began to fondle my breast. I quickly became overwhelmed with his touch, my breathing speeding faster than the boat down the rapids as his lips left mine and followed the trail set by his fingers.

When his lips reached my breast he slowly licked around my nipple with his tongue. Fire hotter than the boiler ran in my veins, consuming my reason. I reached one hand to his front to untie the drawstring that held his pants together and felt his manhood hard against my wrist as I worked the ties. I could feel my skirt being raised but didn't care. It was over my head and off before I even realized it and I only complained that his lips left my skin.

Still, I took the opportunity to push off his shirt and pants, baring him to me. Oh, what a glorious sight he was! Truly a magnificent creature fashioned by God and I was unworthy to worship at this holy alter, but worship I did. My lips ached to touch his skin as much as my fingers desired to stroke it. I couldn't help but act on my desires and I could hear him groan when I touched him in a place my fingers had never touched a man before.

I heard him whisper my name, knowing he had heard my brother use it from time to time, but realized I didn't know his. This was not the time to ask, though, as he fingers were now working on the tie of my bloomers, my camisole having been already removed some time before. Within moments I was bare to him and couldn't help but squirm and moan as he expertly began to arouse my body. I didn't even blush as he began to kiss down me, but only laced my fingers into his hair as he placed kisses first on my stomach, then on each hip, before settling below my navel.

I felt him part my legs and my folds gently with his long fingers. I cried out my pleasure as he rubbed me in a place that had never before been touched, bringing me sensations I didn't know could exist. Only, instead of relaxing me, they built me up. Layer upon layer of passion built up inside as he continued to stroke me with his fingers until the fire was all consuming, exploding out from deep in my abdomen like a bomb had exploded deep inside of me.

Panting heavily I pulled on him, wanting more, but not knowing what. I was glad he did, though, for he situated himself above me, his hips between mine and began to push. Ever so slowly he pushed his body into mine and I could feel myself stretching to accommodate him until it felt like he hit a wall. "Bella, love, I'm so sorry, but this will hurt."

I didn't care. I wanted him, needed him in a way that drove me crazy with desire. "It's all right, dear. It must be done," I answered him before a sharp pain replaced the immense pleasure I had been feeling. But in my pain I heard him whispering endearments to me, consoling me and kissing away my tears as he joined his body with mine and I learned the meaning of the scripture 'and two shall become one flesh.'

Suddenly he became rigid above me and moaned loudly and I knew he had found his release. An overwhelming sense of completion and exhaustion came over me as he kissed my temple, wrapping me in both the blanket and his body as I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke in the morning first, still wrapped in his body, and extricated myself to prepare tea. I finally managed to get the fire going and the tea made while listening to the sounds of Mr. Cullen's deep breathing and the singing of the songbirds. When the cup was full I set it beside him and softly whispered, "Mr. Cullen? I mean…dear?" hoping he would awaken.

He opened one eye, sitting up and thanking me for the tea. I gathered my courage about me to ask the question that had bothered me last night. "Um, dear, there is one thing I simply must know."

"Oh, and what's that?" he asked, his lovely smile setting my stomach to fluttering.

"What is your first name?" I enquired and he chuckled.

"It's Edward, Bella. My name is Edward." I can't help but blush that I know this man biblically now but didn't even know his given name yet, but he doesn't seem to mind. I gather my courage together and quickly lean in and give him a kiss on his cheek, but he doesn't allow me to escape. Instead he gathers me into his arms and holds me close. I begin repeating his name over and over, simply enjoying the sound of it on my tongue when he squeezes me tighter and asks for another kiss. I can refuse him nothing at this point and yield myself to him again as his name continues to fall from my lips.

Belatedly, I sensed that a good amount of time had passed and forced myself away from him, knowing it was time to get underway again. We get all in readiness, talking a bit amongst ourselves as we prepare. When all was set he asked for another kiss and we continued our journey down the river. We laughed at some hippos, and Edward was so funny in his imitation of them, giving me stitches in my side from laughing so hard. I have never felt so free in my life before this, and I owed it to the man laughing boyishly beside me.

As our laughter faded away we heard another sound. This one was a deeper roar than the other rapids we had passed through and I grew concerned and asked my dear Edward what it could possibly be. "Perhaps we haven't gone through Ulanga Falls after all," he opined as the roar grew to deafening levels and the water picked up a tremendous speed. Taking a death grip on the tiller, I watched as Edward worked the engine. There was an underlying panic in his eyes, likely concern for me as we began to go over small waterfalls and were thrust between the large rocks in the river.

There was a horrible crashing sound below and fear as thick as molasses sounded in my head, warning me that the bottom may have been torn out. Swallowing that scared feeling down, I shouted to Edward to keep us going. He headed for the pumps while I maintained steerage and watched the water in fear as we were thrown dangerously close to some rocks before being miraculously tossed the other way. The strength of the rudder holds and forces us onto shore. Edward jumped from the boat into the water and freed the bow from the bank before dragging himself back on deck, which was now three-quarters full of water.

Steering us back to the middle of the river as Edward pumped and bailed, I was relieved and hopeful that this was truly the end of the difficulties on our journey. We finally settled in a calmer place and I wondered how much we'd lost when the waves came over the deck.

"We'll just have to bail her out and see," Edward said and we both set to work, unable to speak amidst our labor.

Edward managed to get the planking up and bails out below deck but was unable to find the source of the horrible sound we had both heard before we finally stopped. He grabbed a rope, stripped down to his undergarments and tied it about himself, handing me the other end. He quickly jumped out and disappeared under the water. I could see a trail of bubbles following his movement and hoped that meant that he was all right. I found myself holding my breath with him until he surfaced and climbed up beside me in the boat.

"What is the matter dear?" I asked him, and he hung his head despondently.

"The shafts all twisted like a corkscrew and we've lost a blade on the propeller. I'm afraid we're stuck old girl."

"Can it be repaired?" I asked, certain this couldn't be the end of our journey. We'd come so far...

"Well, sure," he agreed. "If'n we was in Limbasi I would have them haul the ole' girl out of the water and pull out the shaft. They'd straighten it out, and whiles they was working on that we could clean and repaint the hull." His head hung lower and his shoulders slumped as he continued. "But this ain't Limbasi, an' so we can't."

I'm sure this can't be the end and so we discussed being able to pull the shaft without taking the boat out of the water and how we could possibly straighten it ourselves. I could see the excitement build in his eyes as we discussed our options, his mind working feverishly to figure out the mechanics of what needed to happen, only to see the light fade again. "Ain't no use, old girl," he said. "We're still missing a blade on the prop, and without that the shaft would get all twisted up like a corkscrew again."

I refused to admit defeat to the elements, but voice a small 'oh' as I looked about us. "Edward, dear, you have all this metal about. Are you using it for anything?"

"No, Bells, that there's scrap," he replied dejectedly while my mind continued to consider our options.

"Might we be able to use the same fire that we're using to straighten the shaft to melt this down and create a new blade?" I asked. Excitement bubbled up inside as the light returned to his eyes.

"I suppose we could just tie it on," he relented, a strange look on his face.

"Well, I suppose," I reply, "but couldn't we just weld it? That is the word, isn't it? Weld?"

He began to laugh and I'm afraid he looked rather desperate. "Oh, you're a one, Bells, really you are!"

I'm concerned. Is he losing his will, afraid for our lives? Has this been too much for him? Was he under the water too long? "Was that the wrong word, dear? You know what I mean, even if it isn't, don't you?"

"Oh, it's the right word all right, Bella love," he laughed, pulling me into his arms and kissing me. Before long all thoughts of the shaft and prop were forgotten as he quickly divested me of clothes and I again gave my body to him, grateful it doesn't hurt as much this time as last.

When we finish he gives me one last kiss before pulling on his drawers, reattaching the rope about his waist and jumping into the river to begin removing the shaft. It takes quite a long time and he resurfaces frequently, banging on the hull to let me know to pull on the rope when he needed another breath of air. He finally popped up to tell me it was ready to be removed and inform me he's going to pull it out and walk it under water to shore, since it is too heavy to swim with.

I offered to help, and even began to remove my own clothes that I have redressed in when he shakes his head at me. "You think I'm going to let you get drowned? Them currents is fierce! What'll you think of next?" he grumbled as he cast himself one last time into the river.

I could tell he wasn't making much headway as the bubbles weren't moving very fast, so I secured Edward's rope to the boat, tied another to myself and the boat as well, and jumped over the side in my camisole and bloomers. I found him struggling with the shaft and grabbed the other end, walking with him under the water to shore. Together we were able to accomplish the task.

A week later we finally had the shaft straight. I was glad that we hadn't lost any of the food in the boat and I'd been able to find fruit on shore during this time. Each night he made love to me, and I found myself loving him more and more each day. Once the shaft is finished he sets to work making a new blade for the prop. Thankfully that only takes another couple days and he is able to reassemble the boat for use.

"Do you think it'll work?" I asked him, hoping to hear him say yes.

"Well, there's no telling till we get her out there," he said, gesturing to the river, "and God help us if the answer is wrong." He untied the moorings and pushed off of shore. The bow swung out into the current, and I kept hold of the tiller as he started the engine. "Goodbye darling," we both whisper as we try our luck.

A few days later we found ourselves near the end of the river. He began to congratulate me on making the journey, and I found myself having to point out that without him it wouldn't have been possible. Who else could have made the repairs, or taught me to steer the boat as he had? I was so very proud of my man. I looked ahead and saw the waters open up and slow down before us. Edward joked that the river has gotten tired of jumping around and frolicking on the rocks and is now taking a rest. He pointed me to shore and I steered the boat over as twilight falls.

We began talking about how much further it is to the lake when he slapped at a mosquito. I could hear them whirring in the air, and soon felt a bite myself. Edward was up out of his seat, slapping away as he told me grimly that he thought we might be wishing for the rapids again soon. Feeling as if I'm being eaten alive, I scream that I'm going into the water. He rapidly agreed that was the best option but grabbed my wrist before I can jump in. "Edward! I'm being eaten alive!"

"No Bella," he shouted over the whirring bugs, pointing to the river where I could see a large crocodile swim by. "What did you say about being eaten alive?" he asked, and I watch in trepidation as more crocodiles swam alongside the first and a couple more left the bank.

"Get me out of here, Edward!" I called to him, "I'm going mad!"

"Get under the blankets, Bella, and I'll get us going again!" he instructed me and I dive for cover. I could feel the boat moving again, slowly at first then faster as we head toward the middle of the river.

I am ashamed of my behavior. I should have been more stoic, and so I crawl into his lap seeking forgiveness. "I'm so sorry, Edward, I should have helped you, but they were driving me mad!"

"I know, Bells, I know," he comforted me and I saw that he was covered with bites himself. Feeling horrible that I took cover and left him to deal with everything himself, I apologized, but he says that he didn't mind so much. I'm in a state. It has gotten dark but I'm terrified of tying up to shore again and being eaten alive. Edward had the idea to let out the anchor a bit to slow us and simply let us drift. I could see the wisdom in that and quickly agreed to it.

After setting it, he crawled beside me, wrapping his arms around me. "Oh, what stories we'll have for our grandchildren," he said, nuzzling me closer to his strong, warm chest. "If'n we have any." We fall asleep under the stars.

In the morning we found ourselves looking for a way amongst the reeds. We discussed different options, finally picking what looks to be a channel and I took my place bind the tiller to steer us into it. The reeds push away from the front, but close in behind us as we slowly pass. It's obvious that we are getting slower and slower, but I have no idea of what to do. Edward finally turns off the engine, telling me that he's worried about the prop in the mud. Pushing on the reeds, he began propel us along.

Luckily, I found a long pole and began to push from behind as he pushes from the front. We continued on like this for what seems to be hours, but there really is no telling in the heat and humidity of the swampy area. Eventually our efforts become ineffective and he decided he must hop out and carry the boat through the water. He grabbed the boat hook, and I watch shamelessly as he undressed down to his drawers before hopping over the side to begin pulling the boat through the reeds. Before he goes over I spot a hint of fear on his face, but he tried to hide it from me.

Finally he had us freed and hopped back on board. I took one look at him and screamed. He was covered in leeches! He begged me to pull them off of him but then stopped me for fear the heads may stay and poison his blood. Desperately, I remember we have salt and began to cover them with it, watching as they elongate and fall off of his body one by one. When the last of them is finally off I tenderly touched the cuts on his body they'd left behind. Tenderly, he smiled at me, touching my cheek softly and thanking me before we set about going back to poling our way through the reeds.

Eventually we got stuck. The mud had us trapped and we were unable to move any direction at all. Exhaustion is claiming us and the lake is nowhere in sight. I watch as he sat down in defeat, head in his hands, fingers pulling roughly at his hair.

"It's all right, dear, you just need to rest," I said to comfort him and he gave a small sigh.

"So do you, old girl," he replied, allowing me to lay him down before tugging me in close to him.

"We'll be fine once we've rested," I assured him and he mumbled an agreement.

We were quiet for a while, both feigning sleep when he whispered into my hair, "You want to know the truth, don't you Bells?" I tell him that yes, I do. "We're done for, old girl. I'm afraid there ain't no way we'll be able to get off this mud."

I reached back to comfort him. "I know it." Turning in his arms to face him, I take note of the deep pain in his eyes. He's condemning himself for agreeing to this, and I knew he felt he should have told me no to spare my life. We lay there, staring at each other, knowing this may be our last look in this life, before letting our exhaustion claim us and fall to sleep.

I awake to hear Edward calling my name. "Bella, Bells, darling," he is whispering in my hair, but I'm not ready to awaken to a day of pain and death. I'm actually quite surprised we haven't died during the night, given our exhaustion. Then I hear him sounding excited, "Look, Bella, we're moving!" I opened my eyes but all I saw was him. I can feel my love for him pouring out, hoping he isn't delusional.

I reached up to touch his face. "We did our best, dear," I said to comfort him but he ignored me, grabbing me excitedly to kiss me over and over, setting my blood racing.

"No, Bells, we're moving! Don't you see? Movin', that's what!" he cried out and I sat up to look around. I crawled slowly to my feet, the aching of my muscles protesting my movement, but I knew I must help the boat along. "No, Bells," Edward called, "you rest yourself." He then picked up a pole despite the weariness etched on his own face and began to push against the reeds. I helped on the other side, desperate to free the boat from the morass that has held us captive.

Finally I look forward and could see the lake as the boat broke free. We had made it. Edward flopped down onto the deck, pulling me with him and I fell ungracefully to my knees and began to pray as tears fell from my eyes. Worrying no doubt for my sanity, Edward tried to comfort me, but it wasn't comfort I needed.

Pure, unaltered joy flooded my being, raising my spirits. We had made it, at last. God had made us successful so we could do his work.

Edward and I discussed what we should do, and he reasoned that since the Louisa is patrolling they will come to us. We must only prepare for them. We set up steam and looked for a place to tie in when he suddenly threw a bucket of water on the fire, dousing it. I'm sure my face showed my confusion when he pointed out to the water, "The Louisa, I'm sure of it!"

We go as quickly as we can back into the reeds, Edward climbing from the boat to cut some to hide our stern. We both fell exhausted again, hoping we could get the boat back out as the Louisa steamed by, barely missing us. As she steamed away we discussed what needed to be done to make the torpedoes.

Evidently, Edward could read my mind. "I know what you're thinking, old girl. You want to take her out at night the next time the Louisa comes round, don't ya'?" I nodded. He was right. "We ought to manage it."

He spent the next three days fashioning the torpedoes, cutting holes in the bow to mount them in and making detonators. When all was in readiness he informed me that he'd be putting me on the south shore while he took the boat into the lake.

He would leave me widowed before we were even wed!

I argued with him, naturally, but eventually got him to see reason. We'd started this journey together, me at the tiller and him at the engine. We would finish it that way. While we waited for the Louisa to return we cleaned and painted the boat, seeing as how she was a representative of the British navy. We cleaned ourselves as well, only Edward laughed that it didn't seem fitting for him to go to battle without any pants. His were lost in the reeds, so I offered him mine. He looked quite silly in them, but they will do.

When night falls we saw the Louisa coming 'round. I looked at him, but no words came. This was the end and we both knew it. He pulled me into his arms, kissing me soundly before we separated to our tasks. A storm had begun, but we knew the time was now. We pushed out of the reeds, but there was a problem.

The water was above the holes we've cut in the bow, the weight of the cylinders dragging the bow down and causing it to swamp. Edward tried to shift the ballast, but with the waves crashing it was of no use. Even bailing was ineffectual. He grabbed a life buoy and slipped it on me as a wave crashed over us, swamping the Queen and casting us into the water.

I was torn from his side in the ferocity of the wind and waves. Crying, I hung onto the buoy, but I knew I had lost my life, my heart. I sobbed the night long, tears finally drying with the rising of the sun as a sense of despondency overcame me. We had failed, and I had lost him forever.

I floated listlessly on the buoy, not noticing the ship come up behind me until a native dressed in a German uniform pulled me from the water. I turned and saw a German officer, and fought as he tried to pull me on deck. But then something stopped me. I could hear Edward calling my name from inside the ship. I ran to the cabin where he was and could see a cut on his lip. It appeared as if he had been struck.

"Edward, dear," I called to him and he turned and smiled at me. The captain said something in German that I didn't understand, but I didn't care, I only wanted to be by his side.

When the captain was done speaking with his officer he began to question me, asking my name and nationality, and what we were doing on the lake. I explained that we were boating, and he incredulously replied, "In this weather?" Like I had control of the weather! I informed him of my inability to be responsible for the acts of God. He told me the consequence of not answering his questions was death, and from the look on Edward's face I can see this was true, so I told him the truth–the entire story of how we planned to ram the Louisa with torpedoes that we had made.

Edward tried to stop me, but I reminded him we had already had this discussion. I was not going to outlive him. So, he decided to have fun in our last moments on earth with me and described how he had fashioned the torpedoes. I was so proud of him and his engineering ability! Naturally we were sentenced to death, and I made the last request that we at least be hanged together. The captain was good enough to relent.

As we stood on the deck, with ropes about our necks, Edward made his last request. "You're a captain, can you marry us? It would mean so much to the lady." My heart swelled with joy when he said this and I couldn't keep from his side. I placed my hand on his arm and looked up into his eyes and saw his love for me before turning to the captain and nodding.

"Very well," he said before carrying out the wedding ceremony for us. He ended by saying, "By the power vested in me by His Imperial Majesty, Kaiser Wilhelm II, I now pronounce you man and wife. Carry out the execution." Edward leaned over to kiss me one last time, sealing our union.

As he kissed me there was a tremendous roar! Smoke and debris flew through the air, and Edward ripped the rope from my neck as we were thrown from the deck. I landed in the water near him, and he pulled me close, shielding me from the bits and pieces of the boat that were still flying around, his own neck bare of the rope that had previously been around it.

He began swimming with me following quickly after him. I could see some wreckage in the water; it was a piece of the stern of the African Queen! "We did it! We did it!" I called to him, celebrating as we swam.

"But how?" he asked, and I merely pointed to the piece of stern. I loved hearing his laugh of triumph mixed with my own.

"Now what shall we do?" I asked him. We had accomplished our goal, but we were still in the middle of the lake.

"There should be an English outpost on the south shore, Bella. We'll have to swim for it," he answered me.

"Which way is south?" I asked, paddling along behind him.

"Why it's the way we're going, love!" he exclaimed and I let out a laugh, following him to our future.


End file.
